


Thief

by vehlr



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anthony Lives!, F/M, Nobody is Dead, Parents Live!, Royalty, younger than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehlr/pseuds/vehlr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Princess Cassandra Allegra is approaching her twenty-first birthday, and the suitors will be insincere. Apart from one, it seems. A thief of a dwarf working on behalf of Deshyr Varric Tethras seeks to tip the balance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

78th in line to the throne, and still Cassandra Allegra is escorted to her arms training with a scowl. She had tried to reason with her father, of course - _what is the point in arms training if I cannot defend myself from attackers?_ \- but the fact that she was allowed to train with a sword at all was a hard-won victory, and concessions had to be met for her continued attendance.

Of course, even that was up for debate after she had knocked down a young lord of Nevarra.

“If you simply refuse to act the part of a lady,” her mother had said in that icy tone that meant someone in the capital would be getting a dressing-down later, “then I see no reason to -”

“They called me a brute!” she had snapped. “They mock me!”

“You acted like a brute, I think it is quite justified.”

“Mother!”

“I have tried to be patient with you, I have prayed that you would outgrow this coltish phase, but you insist on following your brother’s path - what am I to do with you? You are Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena -”

“Ugh, Mother, please -”

“- Pentaghast, and you are - whether you like it or not - a princess of Nevarra. You must start acting like it!”

“I am twenty-one in three moons, and yet you keep treating me like I am four! I have a right to make my own decisions!”

“You have a duty!”

And so the argument had gone on, strong-willed women shouting their points at one another until her father had intervened and escorted her back to her suite.

“You must not antagonise her so,” he had said in a low voice. “She is your mother, and more lenient with you than hers was. Be thankful we are not sending you to Antiva for finishing,” he warned her. She had started at that, not realising that they might have sent her away so easily.

“I am not - I do not think I am a very good princess, even when I try.”

“You are my daughter,” he had said, kissing her forehead. “You are every inch the princess. You just need to accept that you cannot change what that means overnight.”

She had thought about nothing else since. That she could change what it meant to be a princess, that she could carve out her own path… it was all she had ever wanted. But her father was right, she could not do it overnight, and she could not do it alone.

Oh, how she longed to be her brother! Anthony had been granted more freedom, the freedom to hunt dragons - a path she had been promised and then denied. It had been Anthony himself who had said no - that he could not protect her forever, that had solidified the thought in their mother’s mind. She would not risk her daughter for anything -

A loud crash makes her sit bolt upright.

“Shit!”

A voice - a rough sort of voice, one she did not recognise. A break-in! She dives off the bed, reaching for her practice sword. What a stroke of luck! The chance to apprehend a thief and prove that her choices had been worthwhile.

“Fuck it - where’s that blasted -” The voice descends into a mutter, and she peeks out from behind the door to find its source. A man, it seems - a small man, he could be no more than a child, but that voice…

“Who goes there?” she calls out.

The man freezes. “ _Shit_.”

Sighing, she reaches for the cadle by the door, lighting it as she emerges. “If that is all you have to say -”

“I know this looks bad, but I -” He stops as he turns to face her, and they both stare at each other for a long moment.

“You are a dwarf,” she says finally.

“You’re _gorgeous_ ,” he says, with a tone that she never heard aimed at her before.

She bristles. “And a liar, it seems, as well as a thief.”

He starts. “What? No, you - you _are_. I’m not just saying that to save my own neck, Princess. I was told you weren’t particularly… and then here you are, and you’re _very_ particularly…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Oh, I am _so_ fucked.”

He is strange, for a dwarf. Cassandra Allegra has not met many, but there is something very… unique, about this one. Not quite clean-shaven, but his beard was absent, replaced by a veritable forest of chest-hair in russet tones that matched his long, not-braided hair. And there was no air of alcohol around him - if anything, she thinks, he smells quite pleasant.

She pushes that thought away, tightening her grip on her sword.

“You came to steal something.”

“Actually, no. I came to put something down. Opposite of stealing, if you will.” He smiles wryly. “If you want, I _can_ steal something. Makes it more believable when you send the guards to execute me.”

She rolls her eyes, blade dropping. “I am not going to -”

He laughs. “I’m kidding.” Reaching into his pack, he pulls out a delicate piece of metalwork. “I’m here because - well, because in a few months you’re going to have a fancy ball for your birthday and everyone’s going to be fighting for your hand, and -”

“You came to beat the crowds?” she drawls.

“No. Well, I mean, sort of.” He offers out the piece - a peony made of the thinnest copperwork Cassandra Allegra has ever seen. “You like them, don’t you? You’ve got hundreds underneath your window, so -”

“It is beautiful,” she murmurs, stepping forward. “But why? Who sent you?”

Something in his gaze shifts, and he swallows. “Uhm. Someone who you probably wouldn’t look twice at.”

“A dwarf?”

“Yeah.” He steps closer. “See, all those lords and princes who are gonna be there - they want your name, your title. They won’t see the sword-wielding peony-loving woman that’s standing here threatening a thief. They won’t see you. But… but he will. He _does_. And sure, there’s politics and shit, but… he doesn’t want you to be unhappy, he wants you to see him the way he sees you. With open eyes. That’s why.”

She considers him for a moment, before putting the sword down. “Is he _very_ dwarfy?” she asks dubiously.

He grins. “Naah. Doesn’t even have a beard.”

“Why did he not come himself?”

“It’s complicated.”

She pulls a face. “Is he old?”

He laughs again. “No, no. It’s just that when you’re from a very prominent dwarven family like he is, you’re not exactly _encouraged_ to go breaking into palaces. Not,” he adds, “that he agrees with that tone. He’s all for the adventure of it.”

She smiles slightly, before moving to put the flower on the mantlepiece. “Well,” she says finally, “if you like, _thief_ , you may steal something as a favour to this mysterious dwarf. His attention is a surprise, but I am not without grace.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Mighty gracious of you, _princess_ ,” he replies, and she cannot help but smile at his cheek.

“What is his name? This man you represent.”  


“Varric Tethras, princess.”

She feels her stomach flip. “The author?”

“Yeah.” He grins. “You read his books?”

“Oh, yes! I _love_ them, they are so full of life -”

“He’ll be glad to hear that.” He considers the room for a moment, before fixing her with a smile. “I can steal anything?”

“Anything,” she confirms.

He takes another step forward, reaching to take her hand with care. “Then I’ll take the only thing he’ll know is yours,” he says quietly, before brushing his lips over her knuckles.

Something in her chest blooms.

“You -” She swallows. “You did not have to -”

“Stealing means without permission, princess,” he points out, winking before he lets go of her hand. “Besides, you’ve been calling me thief. Had to live up to your expectations.”

The bells toll in the distance, the third watch beginning.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “I need to go, before the guards catch me.”

“Will you - will you come again?”

“Depends.” He smiles. “If the guards change, I’ll know you told someone about this, which means you don’t want - you don’t want Varric’s attention. But if you don’t tell anyone, I can slip in again.”

She mull this over as he gathers the rope that had apparently been used to get in. “Will you tell me more of him? Next time?”

“Anything you like, princess.”

She nods. “Then do not delay.”

“Is that a royal command?” he teases, and she laughs.

“I suppose it is.”

“Then who am I to deny you?” He tests his weight against the sill, before offering a wry smile. “Oh, but... if you could leave the latch off on your window, that’d help.” And he flies out the window and down the wall.

Cassandra Allegra rushes to the open window, struck with a thought.

“What do I call _you?_ ” she hisses.

He looks up from the flowerbed - and even from here, she can see that not a single bloom is broken by him, a courtesy that warms her - and grins. “Call me what I am, princess.”

She smiles, before closing the window, considering the dwarf. “Thief,” she murmurs.


	2. Chapter 2

It is another week before the thief returns - another week of hitting practice dummies, another week of lessons on long-dead relatives in the gardens, another week in which she does not see eye to eye with her mother on her future as daughter of the Pentaghast line.

It is trying, being a princess to a queen as strong-willed as her mother.

In her room, she waits.

The night is warm - almost stifling, in truth, the Nevarran summer stretching out long and languid, and Cassandra Allegra longs for the release of the autumn’s breeze. She longs for release from a lot of things, she realises, thinking back on the tumultuous week with her mother.

Cassandra Allegra thinks on her father’s words often. _You cannot change what it means to be a princess overnight._ She wonders how long it would take - how much patience would be required of her. It was, even she had to admit, not her strongest quality. In that regard, she realises she is unlike her mother, the queen ever a bastion of the virtues she so desperately sought to instill in her daughter.

Predictably, as her thoughts often had, she thinks on the thief. It was a unique approach, she had to admit - she had been warned about suitors from her many relations, that they would promise much and most of it would be lies. She was a princess, and in a country that was so driven by social standing, many sought the status that came with marrying one.

_Tap-a-tap-a-tap._

The smile bursts onto her face as she looks up from her book - one of his, her favourite - and scrambles from the chair to open the window wide.

“I thought you would never come,” she says, grabbing his arm to help him inside.

“I was busy - _oof_.” Despite their best efforts, the thief lands face-first onto the rug, rolling onto his back as he winces. “Shit. Why is the royal ledge such an awkward width?”

“To prevent thieves from entering unnoticed?” she suggests.

He grins up at her. “They’re not very good at that job, then.”

“Clearly.” But despite the dry tone, she is still smiling as she hauls him to his feet.

He brushes off the dust, looking up at her. “So. What do you want to know?”

Her hands tighten into fists, the excitement of this secret almost too much for her.

“Everything.”

 

*

 

Cassandra Allegra learns everything she can about Varric Tethras. The thief, it turns out, is as enrapturing at storytelling as the writer - he tells her of the man who had adventured as a youth in defiance of his family, the man who had returned home when his mother had passed, the man who wrote of romances he could never have… a man who hid his pain well, it seemed.

He talks until dawn, the rosy warm light hitting the wall behind him before he stops.

“It’s early,” he points out. “You should sleep.”

“I am fine,” she insists, stifling a yawn.

The thief shoots her a pointed look. “Sure you are. Go to bed, princess. I need to leave anyway, the guards are changing.”

“Will you return?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Ye-”

“Before you agree,” he cautions, “I have to tell you something. A big sort of something.”

Cassandra Allegra stills, surprised at the look of apprehension in his eyes. “What is it?”

He swallows audibly, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he looks away. “I haven’t been - I mean, I never meant to -”

But before he can explain anything, a scream rips through the early morning air - a scream unlike any she has ever heard. It chills her to the core, the timbre entirely recognisable.

“Mother -”

“Shit.” He steps past her towards the door. “Shit.”

“You cannot go out _there_ -”

“I don’t have much of a choice.” Even in the low light, she can see the tense look of resignation on his face. “The guards will be swarming, I can’t leave the way I came in. And besides, if someone’s in trouble…”

She grabs her practice sword, nodding. “Then we go together. I will vouch for you if anyone asks.”

“Not sure that’s going to cut it,” he mutters.

“Thief -”

“I know.” He sighs. “I just -”

There is a loud crash, closer than the screams, and the thief presses his ear to the door for a long moment before shoving it open hard. Another crash - much closer, it seems, as something - or someone - hits the open door with a cry.

“Sword up, princess,” says her thief, and she nods as they push out into the corridor.

The crumpled form of a man she does not recognise is pressed against her bedroom door. There is something unsettling about the sight, and she lingers, staring at him for a long moment.

“Hey.” A warm, large hand wraps around her own, and she looks down to find the thief at her side still. “Hey. You’re alright. Stay with me.”

She shivers, but his thumb runs over her knuckles and a warmth fills her - a strange kind of bravery that bolsters her as she nods. “I am with you,” she murmurs. “Maker take anyone who tries to stop us.”

He offers a slight smile. “I believe that.”

They move with alarming speed through the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, one step ahead of the guards as he keeps her in the shadows. He hesitates often, and it is her guidance through her home that pushes him onward. They make a good team, she thinks briefly.

She thinks of Varric, and wonders if she would make a good team with him.

“Hold!”

The guards are surrounding the inner complex, and once again Cassandra Allegra takes the lead, back straight as she walks through them with purpose, her thief in her wake.

“Father! Is Mother alright? I heard a scream -”

“An assassin. The physician is with her now.” Her father looks grim. “They suspect poison.”

“She is alive?”

“Yes.”

She lets out a breath. “Thank the Maker. There is still hope.”

“There’s always hope,” says her thief, and she smiles down at him.

“I suppose so.”

“This is all well and good,” cuts in her father curtly, “but what in the name of Andraste is a dwarven noble doing in the palace at such an hour, if he is not collaborating with such acts of treason?”

_Noble?_

Cassandra Allegra opens her mouth to reply, but her thief steps forward, taking a knee.

“My apologies, your majesty, for the circumstances of this meeting. I am not here with ill intentions, but I do have some experience with toxins -”

“Varric, isn’t it? Brother of Bartrand Tethras?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Yes, he mentioned you were adept at arts below your station.”

It feels like the air is suddenly too thin. She takes a step back, staring.

“You… you?”

He does not meet her eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“ _You_ are Varric Tethras.”

“Yes, your highness.”

The king clears his throat. “Go with the guards. See the physician, and if you can help -”

“Of course, your majesty.” With that, the thief - Varric, she corrects, he is Varric - follows behind one of the royal guards, a slump to his shoulders. He does not look back.

Something in her stomach drops. “ _Oh_ ,” she says softly.


End file.
